


One-on-One.

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basketball!au: getting kicked off the team fucking sucks, but hoseok kind of makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One-on-One.

**Author's Note:**

> basketball!au. contains explicit... not-sex.

Yoongi dribbled the ball down the empty outdoor half-court, shifting it from hand to hand, rolling it up his arm, around his neck. He was trying to blow off steam, but being on the court at all was agitating him even more. Even the night wind, cool through his jersey and making his sweat cold, wasn't enough to put out the fire of his temper.

When the ball reached his hand he flung it at the cinderblock wall, jerking when it didn't bounce off to the other side but instead was caught and dribbled, slow and deliberate.

“Fuck off, Mino,” he said, pushing his hands back through his dark hair.

“Nope,” Mino replied, bouncing the ball up to spin it on the tip of his finger. “Sorry. I'm supposed to check on you.”

“What, like I'm some kind of kid?” Yoongi asked, bringing his jersey up to wipe off his flushed, cold face.

“No, like you're a forward who just got ejected--”

“Shut _up._ ”

Yoongi was furious about it. He'd been the small forward for the last year and a half—he'd beat everyone else for that position. He was _good,_ it didn't matter that he was shorter than the rest of the team, and skinnier. He was an awesome athlete, and he could jump higher than any of them, score more points per throw but here he was, outside the gymnasium during practice, wearing a practice jersey instead of his game jersey.

He wouldn't be playing in the game that night. They'd given his position to someone _taller._ Someone Jiyong was friends with.

“Yoongi.”

“No, don't fucking _Yoongi_ me,” he snarled, stalking towards where his bag sat against the chain link. “Don't even—just fucking go back inside and leave me alone to be pissed, all right? I don't want to fucking hear it right now.”

“Why do you have to fuckin' be like that,” Mino sighed, the ball caught between his forearm and hip. “It's not like it's a permanent thing.”

“Really,” Yoongi said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Really. You think it's not, Mino? I hate to be the one to tell you this but have you _looked_ at this team in the last three months? Have you not fucking _noticed_ that we're getting bumped to third string? Or second, if we're lucky? You think Hakyeon getting kicked out of the point guard position so Jiyong could put Taehyun there was a fucking experiment? What about Hoseok, huh? How you liking the new shoot guard, what's his name—Hanbin?”

“That's not fair,” Mino said, and Yoongi laughed, shrugging.

“Neither is Jiyong making a team of his friends, instead of the best players. I'd be watching your position, Mister Power Forward. If you don't kiss his ass hard enough, you probably won't be a power forward too much longer.”

“You are such a bitch,” Mino said, slinging the ball at Yoongi with too much force.

“At least I said something about it,” Yoongi replied, after catching the ball with a grunt. “You don't have the balls. Maybe that's why he hasn't replaced you. You don't ask any fucking questions. Just as long as you get to play, huh?”

Mino glared at Yoongi and Yoongi stared back, holding his ball. He shook his head after a minute.

“See you in the gym.”

If Mino said something, it was lost in the rush of blood in Yoongi's ears, his heart rate too fast to listen to much else than the rush of his pulse that screamed it wasn't fair, it wasn't _fair._

But he skipped the next practice. And the next. And the next, he spent playing one-on-one with Hoseok which was really unfair, since the other man was so much taller, but they had fun. Before long, over the course of the weeks leading up to the seasons first game there was a group of them, playing outside in the half-court, three-on-three, then four-on-four. Members pushed off the team, boys who hadn't wanted to try out because Jiyong had a nasty reputation and no one wanted to be put down if their skills weren't up to par. They weren't bad though. None of them were bad, and they enjoyed themselves while they played on the dirty tarmac in their high-tops and jeans.

“How do you think the game went?” Hoseok asked, wiping his face with his spare shirt and looking up at the dark sky. “Think we won?”

“If _they_ won,” Yoongi said, “We'll never hear the end of it. Lets go home.”

“You don't want drinks?”

“You buyin?”

Hoseok laughed, nodded. “I did offer.”

“Then lets go.”

Hoseok walked with Yoongi down to the corner store to get bottles of gatorade and soda, the two of them making their way back to the court. Neither of them had any intention of going home, not when the lights were still on. They were there to play, and the scrape of their shoes, the bounce of the ball off the rim of the hoops was music to their ears, always.

“Shit,” Yoongi complained. The lights had turned off suddenly: ten thirty was the curfew for the school grounds, so they had to get going. “I don't want to go home.”

“It's the weekend, come to my house,” Hoseok said, and Yoongi eyed him queerly. Hoseok had been... Awfully friendly, since they'd both been put on third string. Not that he minded, really, but it was kind of weird. Hoseok was always friendly, but lately it seemed like his eyes were lingering a little longer, his tongue licking his lips a little more often.

“Why, so you can eat me?” he asked, meaning it as a joke.

“Maybe,” Hoseok grinned that electric grin and instead of disgusted, Yoongi found himself intrigued. Hoseok was taller. Had broader shoulders, was just... Bigger. He wondered if his cock was bigger. Probably. Hm.

“Lets go, then,” he replied. It would have taken some real damn thick density not to notice the electric tension that hung between them like a tangle of wires.

~

“You wanna drink?”

“Of what,” Yoongi asked, sitting on Hoseok's floor, flipping through a NBA magazine, skimming the articles, though most of it was stupid bullshit. Why couldn't professionals ever just play the fucking game, wasn't that was it was about?

“I got... Rum?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk so it's easier to pounce on me,” he asked, looking up at Hoseok with his flat, unreadable eyes. Hoseok was not perturbed, if his offer of a cup which was clearly a rum and coke was any indication.

“You got a problem with that?”

Yoongi paused.

“You don't gotta get me drunk to make a move on me, Hoseok.”

“I'll feel better about it if I'm a bit drunk.” Hoseok took a long swallow of his own drink with a wince. “I think. This might not be worth it.”

“Tastes that bad, huh?” Yoongi took a sip of his own and shook his head violently. “Jesus, Hoseok.”

“I don't usually mix drinks,” he whined, putting the cup aside, sticking out his tongue.

“I can see why!” Yoongi put the cup aside and looked over at his friend. The frank conversation from only a few minutes before seemed to have tied his tongue into silence. Not surprising. Hoseok was always bad at talking when it mattered.

“Hoseok.”

“Huh?”

“Come here.”

“Why,” he asked, still scraping his tongue against the top of his mouth, trying to get rid of the taste of too much rum and not nearly enough coke.

“So we can compare dicks, you idiot, why do you think?”

“I,” Hoseok started. “I didn't think you were gay.”

“I'm not,” Yoongi said, with a little frown. “I mean I dunno. I've never done anything with a dude, how the fuck do I know if I'm gonna like it or not? So. Get your ass over here, so I can find out.”

Hoseok took the liberty of putting himself in the vulnerable position, straddling Yoongi's thighs. Yoongi looked up at him and put one hand on his waist. Hoseok was muscular, strong. Yoongi was toned, but nowhere near Hoseok.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Yoongi asked, shaking his blonde hair out of his eyes.

“...Yeah,” Hoseok admitted. Yoongi felt a little rush go through him at the thought of having that much power over Hoseok. Hoseok _wanted_ to be kissed, but hadn't made a motion to do it yet.

Yoongi had to stretch up to kiss him. It was weird. Hoseok's mouth was firm and narrow and he didn't passively let Yoongi kiss him. He kissed Yoongi _back,_ tongue, teeth-- it was _hot._ Yoongi felt Hoseok's callused hands holding the sides of his neck, thumbs brushing over his cheeks and his gut tightened. Fuck. Well. It was going better than he'd thought, anyway.

Hoseok moaned into his mouth and Yoongi decided yep, he was going to hear that again, as soon as possible if you please. His hands tightened on Hoseok's waist, pushed up his back under his shirt and dragged his fingertips down. Aah, yes, there was that little sound again, against his mouth, Hoseok's breath stuttering.

“Feels good?” Yoongi asked, because he didn't really know. Girls always made pretty little noises but he didn't always believe they were actually enjoying what was happening. They were soft, their bodies giving, but Hoseok was hard and heavy on his thighs, his hands were big and strong as one cupped the back of Yoongi's head and the other wrapped around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Hoseok breathed. “Feels so good, mm.”

“What else,” Yoongi asked, feeling that rush going through him again. “What else feels good, Hoseok, tell me.” Hoseok's hips kicked forward and Yoongi gasped to feel just how _hard_ he was in his basketball shorts.

“Yoongi,” he panted, and Yoongi raked his nails down Hoseok's back, rewarded with another twitch of his hips, his breath lost, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead on Yoongi's shoulder, bent forward. “Fuck.”

“Jesus,” Yoongi laughed, out of breath, staring down at the bulge in Hoseok's shorts, staring down at his chest, visible though his thin jersey-style tank top. “Fuck, Hoseok, your dick is so hard,” he breathed, reaching with one hand to touch the tented cloth, gasping as Hoseok's entire body tightened and surged. “So fucking hot, fuck.”

“Keep touching me,” Hoseok panted, his mouth on Yoongi's neck. “Fuck, touch me more, Yoongi.”

Yoongi nodded, his head feeling fogged. His hands worked to pull Hoseok's shorts down, around the length of his dick. His thighs were spread over Yoongi's so it was difficult-- the wide band of elastic pressed at Hoseok's balls. His dick was _big._ Yoongi swallowed and reached to wrap his hand around it, licking his lips, moaning a little to feel that firm heat in his hand. Hoseok bit Yoongi's neck, thrust his hips forward into Yoongi's grip. “Fuck,” he panted, moving his hips in rhythm. “Fuck, fuck, squeeze it, fuck, feels good--”

Yoongi squeezed, gasped at Hoseok's grating growl near his ear. “Just like that, fuck,” he hissed. Yoongi licked his lips and shivered.

“Get off me,” he breathed. “Get off me, Hoseok, I want--”

Hoseok whined in protest but backed away, his dick slapping up against his jersey. Yoongi staggered up to sit on the bed, pulling off his own shorts as Hoseok pushed his down the rest of the way. For a moment the two of them just acknowledged one another; Hoseok, panting and flushed and Yoongi, wide-eyed and excited. “C'mere,” he said, his eyes on Hoseok's face. “C'mere, I want--”

Hoseok did as he was told and Yoongi felt that spectacular twist in his belly again. “Lay down,” he said, shifting back on the bed and tugging Hoseok along to help him get into the position Yoongi wanted him in. After a minute of fussing, Yoongi mimicked Hoseok's earlier position, straddling his thighs but now there was no cloth, just Yoongi's dick against Hoseok's. Yoongi groaned and Hoseok jerked up, throwing his head back.

“ _Fuck,”_ he hissed, and Yoongi pressed his hips down, reaching to-- to fucking rub their cocks together, fuck, it felt good, hot and smooth against his hand, even though Hoseok was bigger, thicker. Hoseok panted beneath him, trying to buck his hips up into the touch. “Fuck, Yoongi, more...”

“So hot,” Yoongi breathed, sitting up and rocking his hips, thrusting his dick against Hoseoks. “Holy shit. So big, Hoseok, jesus, where the fuck you hide this thing,” he watched his tip leave little slips of precum on dark skin.

“I'm a grower,” Hoseok said, laughing breathlessly and Yoongi laughed too, falling over on top of him and snickering because jesus christ, only Jung Hoseok would make fucking jokes about the size of his cock during a sexual experiment to figure out whether Yoongi liked dicks. Though to be honest it wasn't much of an experiment if Yoongi's enthusiastic moan was any indication.

It felt good to press their bodies together. Hoseok lacked the softness of a girl, but his strong hands slipped down Yoongi's back to cup his ass. Yoongi jerked, but Hoseok shook his head. “No, not... Just gonna...” He used his grip to pull Yoongi down and forward as he snapped his hips up, now that Yoongi's weight was more evenly distributed. Yoongi shouted, the sound muffled into Hoseok's shoulder as he kept it up, thrusting up, holding Yoongi to him. Yoongi could feel his dick on warm skin, slick with sweat, could feel their tips catching together, felt Hoseok kissing and sucking his neck and did his best to return the favor when he was trying to keep breathing. Fuck. Yes. Felt good. Do more. More of this, please.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Hoseok threw his head back and pushed up and Yoongi felt warm wet against his cock and fucking lost it, he fucking came so hard he was shaking, his forehead on Hoseok's chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking-- Hoseok, shit--”

Hoseok laid beneath him, panting, his hands gripping and squeezing Yoongi's ass, hips still thrusting lazily upward. “Shit,” he breathed, turning his head and making a fucking stupid face as he tried to look down at Yoongi, resting on his chest. “Well. Whatcha think.”

“I think,” Yoongi started, groaning as he sat up and looked down at Hoseok. Hoseok was staring up at him and Yoongi knew he was holding Hoseok in his hands and it would be so fucking easy to drop him. “I think we gotta fuckin' shower. And talk more about this in the shower. And maybe out of the shower.”

Hoseok lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree, nodding enthusiastically as he sat up to wrap his arms loosely around Yoongi's waist. “Okay,” he said, and he let Yoongi stand, touching his belly.

“What,” Yoongi asked with a frown, clearly feeling self-conscious of his soft stomach.

“Nothin,” Hoseok laughed. “Just. Kinda glad we got kicked off the team.”

“What? What does that have to do with me discovering I really like your dick on mine, Jung Hoseok.”

“Wouldn't have happened if we were on the team, would it?” Hoseok asked, his voice soft and Yoongi paused. He had to nod, it was true. If they were still first string this never would have happened. They were teammates and they couldn't risk fucking up the dynamic the team had on the court but... Since Jiyong was an asshole.

“Maybe we should send him a fruit basket,” Yoongi replied. And Hoseok _laughed._

“That's ironically appropriate,” he giggled, leading Yoongi to the bathroom.

“Are you calling me a fruit,” Yoongi demanded, hitting Hoseok on the shoulder.

Hoseok just laughed, wrapped his arms around Yoongi's waist and kissed him until Yoongi's affronted protests were halted in favor of kissing Hoseok back.

Maybe he was a little gay. Just a little. Just for Hoseok.

“Jackass,” he grunted, shoving the taller man away as the shower started to steam. Hoseok grabbed him from behind and kissed his cheek.

“Mmmhm,” he agreed, cheerful as ever.

On the upside, Yoongi thought to himself as he let Hoseok wash him with a scrubbie and his wandering hands. If the team _had_ lost the game, and Jiyong begged him to come back, he could say no without feeling too bad about it.

He was pretty sure one-on-one with Hoseok was better.

...In more ways than he'd expected.


End file.
